


Major Chord

by maytheday1912



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, No Smut, Past Abuse, Pianist Dan Howell, Singer Phil Lester
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-06 10:53:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17343989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maytheday1912/pseuds/maytheday1912
Summary: Phil Lester was thriving. He woke up excited for his day and went to sleep smiling. As a popular singer, Phil was constantly in the spotlight, whether that's on TV, social media, or on stage. And he loved it.On the other hand, Dan Howell was struggling. It was hard for him to find the motivation to wake up or to eat or do anything. All he did was go to work. At least there was a piano in the cafe he worked at.~~~~(i feel like this lame summary doesn't do it justice. please read it. it's just been marinating in my brain juices for months and now it's finally been created. that sounds weird. i'm sorry.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! thanks for coming to my story.

It was probably the most calming thing ever to wake up when two birds are chirping. Phil was already in a good mood that morning because that’s exactly how he left the dream world. The dream was also pleasant, though. He probably wouldn’t have minded just staying there because, honestly, dreaming can be nicer than the real world. At the least the birds were singing.

  
A yawn erupted from Phil’s mouth. He felt like a lion. Phil smiled a bit to himself. That wonderful feeling of a good rest and looking forward to the day had settled into his body. The sun was smiling down on him, which made his feet under the covers unnecessarily warm, so he climbed out of his bed. He went to look at the birds who were singing outside his window, but they flew away as soon as he threw open the curtains. Phil shrugged and went to make himself a coffee and to turn on his current favorite anime in the lounge.

  
The tune of one of his newest songs was stuck in his head. He hummed along with the melody as he took a sip of his coffee and pulled out his laptop to answer some emails.

  
“Meeting tomorrow, meeting tomorrow, single released this Friday, okay.” Phil muttered to himself. His fingers quickly typed out a response to his manager, setting a time to meet at the recording studio Thursday. It was around ten when Phil’s phone buzzed. It was a text from his best friend, Louise.

  
Louise: Hey, I’m picking you up for brunch in half an hour. You better not have forgotten!

  
Phil: Don’t worry, Louise. See you then!

  
He closed his laptop with a satisfying clunk and headed back into his room to get dressed. It didn’t take long for Phil to find himself in the back seat of an uber right next to Louise.

  
“Good morning, Love!” She sang cheerfully as soon as Phil slid in. “How are you doing this beautiful morning?”

  
“I’m doing wonderfully, Louise.” Phil grinned. “You?”

  
“It feels like it’s been ages since we’ve been able to meet up, I’m just glad that you’re still as chipper as always.” She said. “Are you positive that you’re not too stressed out or anything?”

  
“Louise, how many times do I have to assure you that I’m fine?”

  
“Well, your album next month- “

  
“Is coming along perfectly, I promise.”

  
“Okay, I just worry about you.”

  
“I know.” Phil let a pause in their conversation pass.

  
“Well,” Louise said, pulling out her phone. “How many people do you think will recognize you this time?”

  
“Hmm.” Phil took a moment to think. “Three. But two of them will come up together.” With his phone camera, Phil checked to be sure that his hair was combed up correctly and that there wasn’t any toothpaste on the corner of his lips.

  
“I actually think only one person. A mom, eating out with her two children.” Louise mused. Phil laughed.

  
“That’s daringly specific! If you’re right, I will pay for drinks next time we go out.” Satisfied with his appearance, Phil slipped his phone back into his pocket.

  
“Yeah?” Louise lifted an eyebrow challengingly. Phil held out his hand and Louise shook it with comedic fierceness.

  
During their meal together, Phil ordered a hot chocolate and a breakfast sandwich and Louise got a coffee and waffles. They couldn’t eat it until Phil had Instagram-ed it, claiming that his adoring fans would love it, and “besides, this small restaurant really needs the promo”. Louise gave in. The food was delicious. Also, two people asked Phil for a selfie so, in the end, they were both wrong. At least Phil didn’t have to buy drinks.

  
They left the place knowing they would come back. It was quite past noon when they finally said goodbye. Phil found himself alone once again in his, rather large, apartment. He knew it was time for work. Armed with his ukulele, he sat in his music room and warmed-up with some of his personal favorites and some crowd favorites. The most relaxing part of Phil’s day was usually when he finally settled in and got to doing the thing he really loved; music. Even if it was just for himself this time. Sometimes, when Phil’s head didn’t feel like doing anything productive, he would think about where his life might have taken him if music hadn’t walked in. It was a scary thought. Phil often concluded that he would be working at a fast food place, or dead in a river. (But no shade to fast food workers. Or rivers.)

  
He had a show that night. Downtown London. It was one of his favorite venues too. The crowd was going to be large and loud, like usual, and Phil couldn’t be more excited to play for them. Weekend shows were always the biggest and he was certainly not disappointed. As soon as Phil started strumming the intro to his first song, people were screaming. Some girl in the front was crying. Another wave of cheers rippled across the crowd when he leaned into the mic and began singing the first few words of the song in his deep and beautiful voice.

  
Phil loved performing. Pretty much everything about it. His fans’ response to his movements, whether that be the flick of his wrist or jumping up and down with the song, was often very loud (the label had even paid for Phil to get special earplugs that helped dampen the sound of his crowds.) And how kind his audience was to him during shows because, well, Phil can be a clumsy idiot sometimes. They always respond positively to his lame jokes between songs too, so that’s a bonus.

  
On the subject of Phil’s fan community, he definitely got lucky. Phil knows he had listeners in all parts of the world. Demographically speaking, they’re between the ages of twelve and thirty-five. Very diverse. Phil doesn’t know them all personally (though he often wishes he could just have a sit-down with each one and talk over tea), but he loves and appreciates anyone who had ever enjoyed one of his songs. It's only been a few years since Phil entered the circle of more ‘mainstream’ artists, but he’s had to overcome many obstacles. First, it was when Phil came out as gay to all his fans. They were so supportive, he sometimes still cries at the trending hashtag on twitter when everyone told him how much they loved him. It was truly awesome. And when Phil got a boyfriend, they all commented about how adorable Phil and the boy was on their Instagram photos. They also sent Phil love and support when he and that boy (they had dated for nearly two years) broke up. Not only that, but they believed the sobbing Phil in those crappy low-res videos he posted right after the news of their break up got out, in which he spilled every awful thing that had happened in that toxic and abusive relationship.

  
That was the kind of thing Phil would remind himself of when he worried. Or when he doubted himself. Honestly, a fair amount of Phil’s self-esteem leaned on the fair-sized tower of love his fans had created. It all was also a big piece of Phil’s motivation to make his on-stage shows as awesome as possible. Phil thought that it was kind of like pay back (but maybe not because most of the time the tickets were not cheap. At least he tried.) It’s also why Phil liked sharing a good amount of his personal life on social media, whether that’s through Instagram live streams, random tweets about how he almost got ran over by a car, or interviews and such.

  
After the performance, Phil was tired and energized at the same time. It was an odd feeling. Sometimes he’d go out for drinks with his friends, but he decided to just go home that night. He had an early meeting the next day anyway. So, he pulled on his pajamas and made some tea. It couldn’t have been much past eleven when Phil finally climbed into his bed. He took a second to look back at his day. He was satisfied. Before truly settling into the covers, he pulled out his phone and sent out one last tweet. It said: ”I don’t know if I say it enough, but I love all of you <3” just because he was feeling weirdly sentimental. Then he took a few minutes to respond to comments and the like.

  
With a sigh of satisfaction, Phil shut off his phone and plugged it in halfway across the room (because he knows even the slightest vibration from the damn thing will wake him up) and pulled the colorful covers up to his chin and closed his eyes. He left the world of consciousness with a gentle smile settled on his lips.

  
Things were really awesome.


	2. Chapter 2

The room was dark. It was always dark. Dan didn’t like having the curtains open.

  
Just like every morning, the alarm clock was ringing. And, just like every morning, Dan had already been awake. With a sigh, he pressed the button to make it stop. His head was already hammering. He stared up at the ceiling. The brightly colored paint had faded over the many years of this flat’s existence. It was pretty, Dan thought, in a sad way. But he was only looking at it to procrastinate getting out of bed.

  
What was even the point? Dan told himself that the world would probably keep turning just fine if he just never left his room. But he’d certainly get in trouble with his boss if he didn’t show up to work that day. He’s often the only person running the café.

  
Finally, Dan threw back the covers to his bed.

  
Mindlessly, he began his daily routine. Shower, brush teeth, pull on clothes. Before stepping outside of his flat to walk to work, Dan took a few seconds to breathe. He sometimes forgot to do that. Then he was on his way. It was a five-minute walk and, even when it was cold out, Dan enjoyed a few moments to really refresh himself.

  
His job at the café didn’t pay enough for Dan to truly sustain himself, but he’d given up proper self-care a while ago. The bell had an ironically cheerful ring when Dan opened the door. There was a routine for work too, and Dan followed it without much thought. He went to the back and pulled on his apron (which had a tag with his name embossed in curly letters) then flipped the “closed” sign to “open”. Now he just had to wait a few minutes for the customers to come in for their morning coffee.

  
Sure enough, the bell rang. Dan plastered on a fake smile.

  
Sofia, Dan’s coworker, was late. Again.

  
After an hour and a half, the morning rush was coming to a stop. Sofia left to smoke and Dan was alone in the café. He waited fifteen minutes, staring out the large windows.  
It was kind of cloudy. The wind fiddling with the branches of the tree across the street. A few leaves blew loose. They twirled and danced with the breeze. Dan wondered what it might be like to be that leaf; careless and free of responsibility.

  
Just then, the door opened. It was accompanied by the bell’s ring again. Dan immediately recognized who it was and allowed himself a small smile

.  
“Good morning, Daniel!” It was Miss Harvey. Today her blonde hair was in tight ringlets that framed her face. She wore a flowery blouse underneath a white cardigan and black pants. Like usual, a large bag was clutched between her hands (which were sporting chipped, pink nail polish). Dan always admired the deep smile lines beside her bright, gray eyes. And the fact that Miss Harvey was always grinning and (sometimes scarily) enthusiastic.

  
“Good morning, Miss Harvey.” Dan said, turning to make her drink. She asked for the same thing every day; plain black coffee. He had always thought it strange that someone like Miss Harvey would drink something so dark and bitter.

  
“How are you, dear?” She asked. Coming from other people, the question often sounded insincere, just a way to fill the silence, but Dan knew Miss Harvey meant it.

  
“I’m fine.” He shrugged. “Maybe lacking a bit of sleep, but it’s nothing I can’t deal with.” Dan placed the cup on the counter. It was warm beneath his palms.

  
“Oh, sugar. The shadows underneath your eyes are scary this morning.” Miss Harvey tenderly touched Dan’s cheek with self-manicured fingers. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

  
“It’s fine, Miss Harvey, honestly.” Dan turned away from the touch. “Can I have your card, please?”

  
“Of course.” It was silent between them as Dan swiped Miss Harvey’s credit card.

  
“Well, what about you. How are _you_ , Miss Harvey?” Dan tried for a smile.

  
“Fantastic! The weather channel said it’s going to rain today and I can’t wait. I can already smell those shimmery drops in the air! It certainly makes for a calming walk, doesn’t Daniel?” She said. The way she talked reminded Dan of a firework show.

  
“I guess so.” Dan was busying himself by wiping down the counter. Miss Harvey was walking to her spot in the café, which was the booth in the far corner. She sat down and slipped her laptop from the black bag Dan hadn’t ever seen her without.

  
“Are you going to play again, Daniel?” Miss Harvey gave Dan a knowing look.

  
“Of course, Miss Harvey. Let me clean up a bit first.” After a few minutes, Dan declared the workspace sufficiently cleaned. He slipped out from behind the counter. There was a piano in the café, tucked away in the corner. It was an old upright piano, with scratches and scars all over. Even the wooden finish was fading. At the press of a note, anyone could tell it was quite out of tune. And yet, Dan loved the thing with his whole being. He’d convinced the owner to let it sit inside, as it had been abandoned on the side of the street.

  
Behind the piano is where Dan would spend the time when only Miss Harvey was in the café, working in a booth. He sat down and ran his hand along the chipped and cracking keys. A few at the bottom and the top didn’t work, and a tricky one in the middle only worked sometimes. Pressing down a few simple chords, Dan wondered what song to start with. He had taken lessons since he was very young. It was his idea, not his parents. And he had fallen in love with the instrument pretty quickly. Over the years, his repertoire had grown to a fair size.

  
That day, Dan decided to start with some simpler songs with a more classical feel. Short etudes by Carl Czerny or longer, flowing pieces by Jean Louis Streabbog. It didn’t take too long for him to become completely immersed in his playing. He moved from those pieces to renditions of songs from Fall Out Boy, Twenty-One Pilots and others like that. Songs that he had listened to and decided to learn. There might have been a few original works slipped in there as well.

  
As he played, Dan felt himself begin to relax. His shoulders released the tension from dealing with tired customers, his arms and fingers moving along to create the music with barely any effort. There was a feeling deep in his chest, a kind of warmth and happiness. It was like pink roses were growing at a time-lapse in his stomach. In these moments, Dan couldn’t really think of any place he’d rather be than playing this old and out of tune piano.

  
The only time Dan fumbled on a note or messed up the tone of a soft, minor chord was when he thought about his inevitable departure from the piano. And, like every day, some other person would walk into the café while Dan sat there, and he was forced to stand up to help them. He often wouldn’t get a chance to play again. Then, Miss Harvey would tell Dan how sweet he is for letting her listen to his “magnificent playing! Really, dearie, you could be playing for the Queen!”, or something else she hopes might boost Dan’s playing-for-others confidence, right before leaving.

  
Sometimes it feels like a few minutes, and other times a few years, but Dan’s shift at the café has to end at some point. He put the machines to sleep, turned off all the lights, and flipped the “open” sign to “closed”. Then he said goodbye to the piano.

  
It was already getting pretty dark as Dan walked home that evening. As the sun finally turned away from his part of the earth, Dan felt a heavy shroud of darkness fall over him. It followed him around all day, but at night it grew stronger. It wasn’t actually there, Dan knew that. Sometimes he just needed to give his feelings a kind of form. Maybe it was easier this way. The stuff clawed at Dan’s face and tugged on his ears. With each cold breath he drew in, more got inside his body. Dan felt like he had swallowed lead.

  
He got to his flat just fine. As soon as he was alone, Dan shrugged off his jacket and threw himself onto the couch. It creaked under his weight. He hadn’t even bothered to flip on the light switch. Now the shroud grew, soaking into Dan’s pores.

  
Letting out soft groans of discontentment, Dan twisted on the couch until his face was buried inside the cushions. He pulled the sleeves of his shirt over his cold hands. Then he let out a breath. This was the time of day when Dan’s thoughts were as dangerous as knives. They loomed over him like a monster with eight red eyes. Something horrible fell onto him, an inescapable weight. The reality of Dan’s situation was the center of his thoughts.

  
Some drops of rain began to tap harshly and distinctly on the roof. Miss Harvey was right.

  
The flat he lived in was kind of falling apart. There were cracks in the ceiling and the paint was fading. Like in his bedroom. But Dan lived in the middle of London. Rent was not cheap. Dan was just barely scraping by. It didn’t help that his mom offered no financial help. Or emotional, for that matter. In fact, she probably wouldn’t care if he was dead or alive.

  
Dan pushed the thoughts of his mom away. Even he, in his state, knew that those memories were much too painful to dwell on.

  
The rain outside increased in intensity. It seemed angry, like it wanted to drown every insignificant person in London, even though it knew it never could. It was going to try. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the huge, gray clouds.

  
He thought about his job. Miss Harvey was nice. She was probably the only ‘grandmother figure’ Dan had ever had. At least she cared. Hopefully. It’s possible she just pitied Dan. Maybe she only walked to that dreary café everyday just so that his poor soul might get some kind of exposure to her sunniness. It made Dan sad to think that. Well, nearly everything made him sad now.

  
But there was the piano. Ragged, old, and  _sad_ as it was, there was that piano.

  
With a wistful sigh, Dan turned his thoughts that direction.

  
It wasn’t just raining now, it was storming. Thunder and lightning stabbed at his flat, sending terrifying flashes at his window. The rain was louder than screaming. Dan could hardly hear his thoughts. The storm seemed to be knocking at his door, saying that it was his turn to be drowned.

  
The piano.

  
It was probably the only reason he hadn’t killed himself yet.

**Author's Note:**

> please kudos and comment! more chapters will be coming soon, i promise!


End file.
